Serpent's Gift (44 page)

For a moment he considered going back, but then he resolutely opened the lock and stepped in. He hit the controls to cycle it, then waited tensely.

When the door slid aside again, Serge held out the sensor and frowned.

Nothing! This is insane!

Even if Lynch and her crew had finished neutralizing the cavern, there still should be some background traces of radonium-2 not high enough to be harmful, but higher than normal. But the instrument recorded nothing of the sort!

Cavern Two was, if anything, an even bigger mess than Cavern One. The silver cylinders were stacked all over it. As he walked toward the ramp and the ledge leading up to the star-shrine, Serge was relieved to see that at least Lynch and crew had done one useful thing--the crevasse was securely covered with a sheet of plassteel.

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He stood at the foot of the ramp and looked up, shining his light, fully expecting to see nothing but a gaping hole where the artifact had been ripped away from the stone.

But the star-shrine was there!

Serge gave a soft grunt of satisfaction.
You waited too long, Andrea,
he thought as he clipped his instruments onto his belt, then, ponderously clumsy in his suit, he began crawling up the narrow, rough-hewn ramp.

He was sweating and panting by the time he reached the top, the narrow ledge the Professor had tumbled off. That was only a couple of weeks ago, and yet it seemed like another century. For a moment thoughts of Hing and this morning's awakening threatened to surface in Serge's mind, but resolutely he pushed them down again, concentrating on what was before him.

The star-shrine. It glimmered and flashed in the light of his torch, deep metallic blue-black as a background, with opalescent and colored gems studding it in the shapes of spirals and nebulas.

Quickly Serge took out his instruments and, without touching the artifact, took several quick readings. On the third one, as he analyzed the substance that had been used to cement the shrine into place, the archaeologist froze incredulously. He checked the material again, then a third time, only to see the same readings.

He could not be sure about the origin of the star-shrine itself, but the cement holding it in place was
modern
in origin.

Professor Greyshine's great discovery was a hoax.

But the other things were genuine!
Serge thought, frowning in puzzlement and dismay.
We verified them! Were they planted too?

Completely bewildered, the archaeologist reached out and touched the starshrine--

--only to jump violently when the radonium-2 alarm immediately began resounding throughout Cavern Two!

Serge came within a hairsbreadth of falling, just as Greyshine |had done, but managed at the last second to throw his weight forward, and stay on the ledge. Then realizing that the alarm would be bound to bring in the H.U.

workers, he scuttled backward down the ramp as fast as he dared, then hid behind a pile of the silver cylinders.

He was barely in time.

The airlock door opened, and two fully suited H.U. workers boiled in--then calmly removed their helmets! Then the puzzle pieces began to fall into place in Serge's mind, a
ffew
at a time, and he cautiously eased his own helmet off so he could listen to what the men were saying.

260

"What triggered
it,
do
you think?" the taller man shouted as the
short man
took off his suit, then scrambled up to the star-shrine. Reaching up behind a lip of overhanging rock, he moved something, and the alarm abruptly ceased.

"Maybe some stray neutrons, given off by a passing ship," Shorty replied.

"This thing has to be pretty sensitive to pick up the low levels put out by those professors and their toys."

Their conversation degenerated into a discussion of the newest holo-vid porn star and her charms, then the airlock door closed, and they were gone.

The cylinder nearest Serge had a bill-of-lading number stamped onto it, plus a product ID number. Serge grimly memorized both. He waited for ten minutes, giving the workers plenty of time to get out of the way, before he replaced his helmet, then gathered up his tools to go.

Ten minutes with the records at the station cargo docks should give me
everything I need,
he thought grimly as the lock cycled.
Then I will have to
find Jeffrey Morrow before Andrea Lynch can return to the caverns. I know,
now. I know why she did it, and how she is doing it. .. all I need now is the
proof. . .

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When Serge docked at StarBridge Station, he went directly to the cargo offices. They were fully staffed around the clock, as was necessary on a self-contained world that had to adjust itself to schedules from many planets.

By this time he was well known there as one of StarBridge Academy's pilots, and when he asked to check the records for shipping through the station, explaining that he needed to check on some archaeological equipment that had been backordered, no one gave him a second thought. Within moments Serge was hunched over a terminal, pulling up the data he needed.

First the product ID number of the silver cylinders. That didn't take long at all--they were specially padded containers for storing radonium crystals.

Yes,
radonium, not
radonium-2--which confirmed what Serge had learned from Ssoriszs. The elderly Mizari had told him about Morrow's plan to vaporize the R-2, then collect it into tanks. Just to make sure, Serge pulled up a listing for a vapor-collecting tank, and found that it was a squat, bulky thing with a dull-gray finish and the CLS universal radiation-warning sign painted on each side.

It
was
possible that in order to get to the lethal R-2, Lynch had legitimately removed the "healthy" radonium--but Serge didn't believe it. That was where the bill-of-lading number came in. Quickly he pulled it up, then sat staring at the reproduction of the bill.

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The silver radonium
cylinders had been shipped to StarBridge Station about two weeks ago, which fit--but they had been originally
ordered
nearly
six months
ago! The cylinders had been stored at one of H.U.' s mining camps in a nearby sector, only a few weeks after the routine radonium-monitoring check. The name on the bill of lading as the person responsible for placing the order was ... Andrea Lynch.

Serge grinned wolfishly. I
am getting close, Andrea!

Still, it was possible that H.U. had simply reassigned existing supplies of the radonium cylinders when the emergency at the school came up. Serge quickly checked for an order having been placed by H.U. for vapor-collection tanks. After a few minutes, he found one, and his heart sank within him.

But a bit of further checking made him grin again. A communication had just been received today, saying that the vapor- collection tanks were on back order, and weren't expected to be delivered for another two weeks! He was willing to wager that the StarBridge staff had no idea that those tanks weren't even at the site yet. It wasn't
conclusive--
but it would do until he had the time to trace through the stolen-antiquities files to attempt to match up their

"Lost Colony" artifacts with ones that had been reported stolen and were known to be on the black market.

Serge straightened up and flicked off the terminal.
Andrea Lynch, you have a
great deal of explaining to do!

Standing up, he gave a casual wave to the cargo office, then sauntered out.

His strides increased in speed dramatically the moment he stepped outside, heading for Horizons Unlimited's offices. With any luck, Morrow would still be there, though it was getting pretty late. But he knew from his conversation with Jeff the day they'd had lunch that Morrow had an apartment adjoining the H.U. offices.

Jeff Morrow had supported their dig, had been sympathetic to
<
their goals, and he was a good friend of Rob's. Serge felt he owed it to the man to discuss this with him before bringing it to the < attention of the StarBridge staff, or the authorities. It was only fair to let Morrow know what was going on, so he could clean house in his own company, then help Serge bring Lynch to justice. The archaeologist was sure that Jeff would listen to him and agree that something was indeed rotten in Denmark--the pieces fit together|

too neatly for there to be any other explanation.

You will be sorry, Andrea
... he thought grimly.
Every time I think of how we
labored over those artifacts that
you
planted,

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only to have your own crew "find" them--
His steps came faster and faster.

Lynch, I am going to make you very sorry . . .

Heather sat brooding on her bunk in this cramped little room she had been assigned here at StarBridge Station. For perhaps the thousandth time, she wished she could cry. Hing had been dead for almost forty-eight hours, now, and she hadn't shed a tear for her friend. The well of grief bottled up inside her felt like a genie of legend that would burst forth and drown her.

Why?
she wondered.
Why do things like this have to happen?

The child was not expecting an answer, but out of the silence one came:

Heather was surprised to "hear" from the Avernian. For most of the day and evening, seloz had been busy counseling students (especially the telepaths) who were in a state of shock due to the explosion and their abrupt relocation.

Several times the child had reached out to the alien, only to sense that the fungus being was busy helping another student. But the new Heather (as she thought of herself) was not jealous of the Avernian's attention, as the old Heather would surely have been. Instead, realizing that she had received a great deal of seloz's time over the past few days, she'd resolved to be patient and wait until Blanket could again become her personal guardian angel.

Now she was filled once more with that sense of peace, the affirmation of seloz's love. After the events of the past day and a half, Doctor Blanket's warmth in her mind was like balm on a raw wound. Slowly, Heather relaxed and thought back to the question she'd asked, and the Avernian's reply. Why
did
things like this have to happen? What kinds of forces?

Are you talking about God, Doctor Blanket?
she wondered. Communication with seloz was now so effortless that it seemed nearly as natural as talking to herself had been.

Like what?
Despite herself, she was growing interested in this conversation. She'd never discussed philosophy with an alien

before. For a moment she imagined Aunt Natalie's horror if she could see her erstwhile niece holding a silent conversation with

. a giant glowing fungus who rested in complete darkness half a kilometer away, and a hint of her old evil smile wavered for a moment on her face.

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Faith, Destiny. .. there are many
such forces.>

It seemed strange to think of Faith and Destiny being as tangible on some levels of being as Gravity was on others.

Doctor Blanket, you're awfully smart,
she thought.

Really? How old are you?

Heather sat bolt upright.
Holy shit! You're a million years old?

Doctor Blanket,-how did your people get to be so smart when they don't
have hands or technology or a written language or anything?
The question had been growing in the back of her mind for a considerable time--ever since she'd known the Avernian.

Really? Where were you before you were in this then-and-now?

Heather was just about to ask where that was, when she looked up at her closed door, suddenly alert. Serge had just walked by-- the girl knew it because of the distinctive brush of his thoughts, even though, as Blanket was helping her learn to do, she'd resisted actually
reading
them.

Quickly she pulled on her clothes, thinking,
I've gotta go see how Serge is
doing, Doctor Blanket, I'm worried about him.

the Avernian admitted.

Talk to you later!

She had no trouble tracking the archaeologist through the station, being careful to stay far enough behind so he wouldn't see her. Heather planned to let him reach his destination, then casually stroll past and act surprised to see him.

She really was worried about Serge. When she'd seen him today, he'd been so quiet, so overcontrolled, that she'd sensed he was hanging by a thread.

And yet, even amid his own misery, he'd been concerned for her. Heather understood more than ever now why Hing had loved him. She only hoped that the Cambodian

265

student had gotten a chance to tell Serge how she'd felt before her death.

Now Serge was nearing the Horizons Unlimited offices, only to find them closed for the night. He turned purposefully away and strode toward the nearby bloc of apartments. Unseen, Heather followed.

She flattened herself in a nearby recess, listening as he signaled the door to Morrow's apartment. After a short delay, it was opened by Jeff himself, a robe hastily flung around him. Heather saw the gleam of a distort cuff on the engineer's ear.